Harry Potter and the Mundane Magic
by Varigos D. Vastitas
Summary: A twist of fate leads to a freak accident and the Boy who lived is lost. Near his fifteenth birthday Harry Potter is forced to return to Britain against the wishes of his adoptive father, David Sarif. Now Augmented, Harry is driven to earn his freedom. His only shot is to be expelled from Hogwarts. To bad Dumbledore never expelled anybody.
1. Accidents change everything

People say many things about change. Some are true, others aren't. Some are opinion, some are fact.

People say many things about life, many more about death.

Some people talk about futures that were impossible, about possibilities beyond human imagination.

Harry Potter considered none of these things. He was too busy holding onto precious life. Small bits of conversation floated in his mind.

"Oh my god! Is he all right?"

"What happened?"

"You hit him with your car! What is wrong with you!"

"God, he's dying! Call an ambulance!"

Harry drifted into the darkness, his body wracked with pain.

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Harry felt numb, his body was screaming that something was wrong. He could not feel his arms or legs, he could see nothing, he could not move, all he could do was listen.

"His body was suffering from malnourishment and abuse before you hit him."

"I heard that already, it doesn't change how I feel about all of this!"

"Mr. Sarif, eyewitnesses saw his walrus of an uncle chase him to the seen, threatening him about 'freakishness,'" unseen Harry flinched, "The hotel room had bloodstains that matched Harry perfectly."

"Still..."

"David, if you hadn't hit him he would have returned to England and his hell would have continued. Your paying for his treatment, his prosthetic limbs and everything else. You can't let the guilt get to you. In a way, you saved his life."

"Thank you Megan."

Their conversation was cut short by Harry's body realizing it was hurting. In a surge like a dam breaking, all of his pain returned. Afterward all anyone could hear was the sounds of his body screaming with all it had left in it.

After a few moments, he felt relief, his mind clouded and he felt sleep come over him.

"He's burning up the anesthetics too quickly, we might have to induce a chemical coma."

"He's so young... Why is his body rejecting the medicine?"

"I'm not sure. It also seems like he's doing something to the machines as well."

Harry fell back into the darkness.

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"Mr. Sarif, his augmentation surgery is complete. All systems are working at one-hundred percent, his biological energy isn't disrupting the electronics at all. However, we haven't activated them all yet. We want to run a few tests to make sure his mind isn't overloaded by the new eyes and limbs."

Harry felt his arms and legs again, he was still blind however. His body was heavy, like each of his limbs were made from rocks.

"Doctor, Harry is burning up the medicine again."

Harry heard a chuckle, "He's a strong boy. " Harry felt the sensation of fingers running across his face.

"Lets go, we have the meeting with that British headmaster in half an hour."

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"That Unbelievable Bastard!"

"Calm down Megan, or you might wake up Harry."

"This isn't right! You know it's not! They can't do this!"

"Your damn right they can't. However, getting mad like this for trying isn't going to help much. I've placed guards all around the lab, each with orders that only you, myself, and Adam are allowed in. They're told to shoot to kill if they have to. I'm not letting some political crackpot who believes in magic force us to give up Harry."

A ringing noise felled the irritated silence of the room. "Hello? Yes, this is David Sarif. "

A few moments of silence, "I see. No. No. I understand. Thank you. Goodbye."

A click, followed by a pregnant silence. "The Brits say they don't have a clue about this Dumbledore guy. The Prime Minister's office said they would take care of this however. This smells like a cover up."

Harry drifted, straining to hear more. The darkness claimed him.

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"It's real Megan! You saw it, the same as I did!"

"What do we do David? Adam has spotted them outside the building almost every day of the week now. They've been looking for a way in."

"Harry will finish testing tomorrow. If he wakes up and the augmentations hold, we can decide then."

"They're gonna try to get in sometime soon. By force if they have to."

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"Megan, how soon will the adjustments to his augments take?"

"Adam, I told David this already, the augments are experimental and military grade! This technology is too advanced and too new to be placing in a fully trained soldier, much less a little boy!"

"I know that, but Harry needs a fighting chance. If what Serif has found has any sort of truth to it, then this 'little boy' is going to need as many big guns in his pocket as possible!"

"He's already lost his arms and legs, but now we're turning him into a weapon! We don't even know how the augments will react to his 'magic'. For all we know we're attaching limbs that will fail the moment they are grazed by an enchantment!"

"Serif has gotten in contact with some American spell-casters. They've agreed to help us learn how to block machines and computers from magic. If it works Harry will have another layer of defense on top of everything else we can give him."

"How can they do this? What gives that Dumbledore the right to decide this?"

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"Harry? Wake up sleepyhead. It's time for you to join the living." Harry recognized the voice of Megan. "Come on sweetie, you need to wake up."

"Are you sure he's awake Megan? He looks like he's still in the coma."

"No David, he's awake, the Sentinel Health System is showing conscious brain activity. He's awake and he's faking that he's asleep. Watch."

Harry felt something warm, wet, and slimy enter his exposed left ear and squirm. The little boy jumped to a sitting position and covered the offended ear. "Hey!" Harry exclaimed.

"See? I told you he was awake." Megan stated.

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Four Years Later.

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Harry Potter awoke. Nothing woke him, it was a simple reaction to the 'alarm clock' command he programed into his internal computers. No noise, no vibrations, just instant consciousness from the land of dreams.

The fourteen (soon to be fifteen) year old stretched, then started the day with the usual pattern of activities: bathroom, morning work out, shower, breakfast. The pattern was the same every day, unless circumstances said otherwise.

Unfortunately for him the circumstances were far from his average. Today was the day, after years of legal garbage and threats from the British wizard government, that Harry Potter would be 'returned' to his home country. In Harry's rebellious opinion the Brits could go fuck themselves, and as far as he was concerned Harry Potter was the adopted American son of David Sarif. The only time Harry ever considered going to the U.K. was for a vacation and that idea was destroyed after the first meeting with the Minister of Magic.

Harry was in the middle of his relaxing showers when the first of many annoyances that day began. Harry's Info-link communication system started beeping in his mind. With a thought a display screen opened on his retinal HUD. "Harry?" Questioned the voice of Harry's father. "_Are you up son?_ _Dumbledore is here to 'help' you to get ready._" The disdain David placed on the word help was obvious.

Harry rolled his eyes, "_You mean he's planning on making sure I don't pull a runner?_" he responded with his thoughts. Harry was to busy enjoying the steaming water to respond vocally.

Even if he couldn't hear it, Harry could feel his father's annoyed sigh _"Harry, I don't like this anymore than you do. You've got to return to England or the U.S. is going to be hit with a full financial embargo. That includes raw gold and whatever other precious metals they can block."_

Harry sighed, damning Nicolas Flammel and his philosopher's stone for what felt like the thousandth time since the summer began. _"Doesn't mean I have to make this easy for them does it?"_

Harry ended his shower at his own pace, taking time to dress in a featureless long sleeved white shirt and plain denim jeans. Harry chose the outfit both because he felt he looked cool enough and he didn't give away any of his likes or dislikes like he would with his favorite quiddich Jersey. He didn't want the British to see anything that they could use for bribery or blackmail. He kept his hands exposed however. He wanted the biased inbred government to have visible proof that they were still in the dark ages and that magic would never beat good old fashioned brains and determination.

With a smile Harry gathered up his possessions: a fifth level bag of infinite holding, and an amulet of power. The Amulet of Power was a simple charm with one or two charms imbued within it. The wearer could cast spells, seemingly without a wand, and had a minor anti-magic barrier. Despite the seemingly impressive magic behind the amulet it was nothing compared to the bag.

The bag of holding was an expensive and outrageous gift from his father. At first glance, nothing remarkable, a gaudy purple bag with gold stitches and pull string. However, the Bag's innate magical power was like its name: infinite, it was an indestructible bag wrapped around a pocket dimension. It took an American grandmaster of magic nearly a year to construct it to David's specifications. It was bottomless, weightless, indestructible, invulnerable, only able to be opened by Harry or his blood descendents, and a massive pain in the ass to the British because it was considered a diplomatic pouch of the American Magical Society. Unlike the regular mundane diplomatic pouches if anyone but the bag's holder opened the bag it was considered an act of war, calling forth the "Rite of Eradication" meaning if the British were somehow able to open the bag the entire magical world would declare total war on the Brits and wipe every last one of them from the face of the earth. Harry was still amazed his father managed to get the bag to be allowed to exist after it was classified as its own dimension.

With a final lingering glance, Harry exited the front door of his father's home for the last time and entered the private elevator that led from the rooftop house into the main building of Sarif Industries. As he always did when he used the company elevator, Harry wondered how many employees knew about the private home at the top of their place of employment.

The ride down was over far too soon for the teen's liking. A stiff feeling was heavy in the air as he exited the elevator into his Serif's office. The moment he stepped into the room, the three men standing in the room went silent. To Harry's immense displeasure the man responsible for his forced departure from his home was there, and apparently the ancient man had the gall to address him. "Harry, my boy-" Dumbledore began, only to be cut off, violently, by Harry's annoyed tones.

"I'm not your boy, and don't you dare speak to me unless absolutely necessary." Harry spoke fists clenched. To his credit, David Serif only smiled, for the past hour the great Albus Dumbledore had been assuring Serif that Harry was just going into a youthful phase and would be happy in England shortly.

The second of the two unwelcome foreigners blustered and looked outraged at Harry's bared fangs. "Now see here young man! You will Respect the headmaster!"

Harry took note of the obese man and his out of date outfit, complete with bowler hat. He was far less than impressed. "Who the fuck are you, and why in the name of the Sorcerer Supreme's meaty man rod am I expected to give a limp British flobberworm's shit what you think?"

The fat man's shade of red darkened a few degrees at the profanity and insult while Serif's smile grew wide enough he had to turn his back for fear of laughing aloud. "I am the Minister of Magic boy! And you will show some respect!"

Harry scoffed, "When you stop being a butt fucked puppet with a death eater's money-made condom still dripping from your ass then I might treat you like less than a rancid drug dealer's shit."

The minister's mouth was wide open and sputtering. To no surprise it seemed that Harry's foul vocal tidal wave silenced the fat man.. Next to the office window Serif was near tears trying not to laugh, while headmaster Dumbledore was deathly pale.

After a few minutes of silence the three adults were able to get their bearings. "Well," Dumbledore started stiffly, "I believe this finishes our business Mr. Serif."

David Serif was normally not a violent man, however the look he gave Albus Dumbledore at that moment gave no doubt to anyone in the room that if he could Serif would kill Dumbledore without mercy. "Dumbledore, if anything happens to my son I swear, I will use everything in my power to end everything you have ever cared about. That castle you are so proud of will be reduced to ruble, the titles you hold will be nothing but ash. If anything happens to my son, I swear to it I will expose the entire magical world and lay the blame right on your shoulders."

It took a few moments for the two bastions of British magical authority to recognize the threat they just heard. "You can't be serious! It would be impossible for you to do such a thing before we stop you!" The minister blustered.

Harry smiled for the first time since he had learned of his future relocation to the United Kingdom, his father's threat meant that David Serif had his trump card ready and played. Even if the two fools in the room didn't recognize it. While the minister was sure that David's threat was a bluff, Dumbledore was well aware of Serif's scale of influence.

"Mr. Serif what have you done?" the ancient headmaster asked, weary of the dreaded answer.

"Harry has been with us for four years. Since then, when you started making your demands, I have been hiding stashes of proof. Proof of the magical world, all over the Earth." The two men started paling when they realized the sleeping dragon they had poked. "For four years now, I have had time, I have had resources, and I have had knowledge to use. Every single person with augments provided by my company, magical and mundane, have all had one extra piece added in with whatever they needed. A wet drive. A special device with all the knowledge I could find about the magical world's history, weapons, and ways of hiding."

The two leaders were both filled with dread, their worst case scenario made living. "Even if you got rid of me, or stopped me from remembering Harry anymore, those stashes remain. As long as nothing Happens to me or Harry, the magical world will remained hidden. However if Harry's augments stop broadcasting his vitals to Serif industries and I stop giving the all clear signal, the entire world will know of what your people have done. There will be no place on earth you can hide. Every protection undone, every hiding hole torn open."

David Serif smiled at the Headmaster and Minister. The smile of a shark that was about to feed. "Now gentlemen, our business is finished."

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The trip from Serif Industries to downtown London was three thousand sixty two miles. It was a trip accomplished in roughly ten minutes of holding onto a golden trophy cup that had six handles on it. Ten minutes of swirling, spinning colors and Harry found himself lying sprawled out in an entrance hall. Judging from the golden statue of magical creatures and the smug posters of the minister's face, he was in the Ministry of Magic. Harry however had more pressing matters.

"Fucking incompetent British portkey bullshit!" Harry swore and vomited his breakfast. Toast, eggs, and bacon in an acidic bath of orange juice were never meant to be tasted in Harry's opinion. Harry's top of the line Sentinel RX Heath system prevented many many illnesses and could repair most cases of bodily harm, one glaring weakness however was always going to be a ten minute build up of spin induced motion sickness. To Harry's credit he only heaved on the minister and a hideous pink wearing toad woman. For two minutes. Then looked at the toad woman and heaved a second time.

The Ministry employees were shocked by the display. After six minutes of heaving many were tempted to add to the growing pool of filth.

After Harry recovered and a few quick cleaning charms, a podium and small stage were conjured in the atrium allowing the minister to stand tall and look pompous, despite being covered in puke moments before.

"My Good Witches and Wizards," the man started, "I bring you great news! Today our community is rejoined by one of its lost treasures! I present to you: Harry Potter!"

The crowd of people cheered, while Harry was not so subtly prodded onto the stage like a pet. Harry was not about to let them think he was here of his own volition.

With a not so subtle shove to the side, Harry move the pompous annoyance off the stage and into the crowd. Harry was pleased to note that nobody moved to stop his fall, nor to assist him after he fell. "Ladies and Gentlemen," Harry began calmly, patiently waiting a few moments as shocked chatter moved about the crowd, "People, Shut The Fuck Up!" Harry bellowed, silencing the crowd.

"I don't know what you've been told, and if its not what I say here and now, your a bunch of mindless sheep and a waste of my time. My name is Harry Potter, I'm the augmented son of David Serif. I am here against my will because your ministry is a bunch of backstabbing financially blackmailing incompetent fucktards. I've met exactly two members of your holier-than-thou government and I can safely say that they have made me hate the whole lot of you."

Once again, Harry's foul audio assault was like a paralyzing curse in its own right, the more the boy spoke the greater the shock of what he was saying stunned the people who long since waited for his return. "I have spent four years dreading this day with every fiber of my being. My father and I have listened for threats from your government for four years. With every passing day the threats and insults being leveled at my home and way of life were enough to make me despise your culture with everything I am."

Somewhere in the crowd a woman could be heard sobbing inconsolably, but Harry was not going to pull his punches because of one woman's hurt feelings. Without a sign of effort or struggle Harry tore the shirt from his chest, exposing his metal torso and fully exposing his arms to the dozens of shocked witches and wizards who could not comprehend what they were seeing. Harry gestured to his external implants. "This is how I am alive. Not magic, not the accomplishments of wizards, pure mundane science. The progress of the non-magical people is what saved the life of your 'treasure'. My father saved my life at great risk to himself, he paid more money than any family in England can claim to build the machines that gave me a life. These machines fused with my body, keeping my healthy and alive, and will continue to do so for decades to come."

Harry paused, taking a seat on the edge of the platform. The people stared at the visual augmentations, the metal arms, the armored chest, some even took note of the pieces of metal protruding near his eyes. "I blame whoever it was who took me from my home, I hate them with every fiber of my being. As it is, in two years when I am a legal adult, I will leave this place once again, and this time I will never return. Ever."

Harry hopped up from his seat, and turned to the utterly gobsmacked visage of Albus Dumbledore. "Can I be sent to my room in the Tower now warden?" Harry questioned with every ounce of teenage sarcasm he possessed.

Dumbledore's biting response was held back when he noticed just how many people in the crowd were glaring at him. Harry had named no-one but Albus was wise to know a political storm was fast brewing and it would only take a wrong word or phrase to see the people revolt. The Boy-who-lived giving such an insulting and rage filled return speech was a pile of dry kindling ready to be lit. If he did anything to point the public's new-found ire at him, he would last less than a day.

"Harry, I'm sure you would enjoy only the best Hogwarts provides?" The Headmaster asked diplomatically. A few of the glares lessened but it could still be his execution if Harry was provoked.

Harry smiled like the devil incarnate. "I'm sure I'll enjoy my stay with you, Headmaster." Harry stated kindly. Dumbledore felt like Tom Riddle didn't seem like as much of a problem anymore.

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Hogwarts Castle matched Harry's expectations and could be summed up in one word. "Antique."

"Beg your pardon?" Inquired the Headmaster. The two were currently walking up the path from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts, a speedy floo trip saving them from the political fiasco brewing in the halls of the Ministry.

"Please tell me this place was wired for electrical devices? At least one section?" Harry counter questioned.

"I'm sorry dear boy. Wizards have not developed a way to use muggle electronics around magic."

Harry stopped and gave the man a hard stare. "Your serious?"

"Certainly."

Harry sighed, muttering under his breath about "Stupid lazy magicians..." Harry flamboyantly gestured with his still exposed right arm, which quickly started making loud clanking and beeping noises, the fingers arcing electricity between his robotic fingers as they separated to an impossible degree.

"Old man, your people are very, very far behind the times." Harry stated in a bored tone of voice, continuing the walk to the castle, leaving the headmaster behind.

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The two months between Harry's arrival in Britain and the start of the school year were perhaps the most stressful the headmaster of Hogwarts had ever experienced.

Harry Potter seemed to thrive on irritating or annoying the headmaster. A new toy created was created by Harry in the first week. He called it a 'dung-bomb mine', Harry's contraption was amazing for what it did. Which was spray magic-resistant fecal matter everywhere within range and fill the hallways with a horrible stench that would not leave until the fecal matter was cleaned.

Since the creation of the devices at least one was set off every day, most of them by Dumbledore himself. Harry's next fit of rebellion was to steal every book in the Hogwarts library, then cast transparency charms on them, then leave them in unfortunate areas. The staff, the house elves, and even a few of the post owls all walked into the hidden literary weapons injuring themselves in random areas at the most unexpected times. The prank ended when Harry became bored with his own prank and set all the books to collapse on the headmaster as he exited his bedroom. Albus Dumbledore was less than amused.

Harry continued on his path of annoying Dumbledore and remaining hidden until September first. When the students arrived Harry made to make sure his arrival was noticed, clad in Sandals, American style cargo shorts and a 'tank-top' shirt. Harry chose that exact form of attire, Albus knew, to show off the muggle machinery infused to him. Thankfully Harry had stayed out of sight until the new students were sorted. The ensuing fiasco would prevent and chance of a sorting.

"Hello Hogwarts!" Harry bellowed, "How are we doing tonight?" Harry strode into the great hall, waving to random students and winking at a few of the girls.

The students were whispering and rapidly chatting amongst themselves, each commenting or questioning about the obviously metal limbs. The chatter of the students was even spread amongst the faculty at the staff table, however seasoned with a hint of disgust and confusion. Dumbledore took a moment to cradle his aching head in his bony hands.

One student from the Slytherin table added to the drama by voicing an opinion. "Oh sweet Merlin, whats wrong with his body?" a brown haired boy questioned.

Harry turned to the boy, and marched over. "You know, its polite to introduce yourself to start a conversation." Harry stated with a smile.

The boy looked at his friends for support, only to find Harry still waiting in front of him. "I'm Nott. Theodore Nott."

Harry grabbed Nott's hand, and shook it in a friendly gesture."Pleasure to meet you Theodore Nott, my name is Harry Potter." Cue the startled gasp from the entire hall. At the staff table, Albus' headache was increasing in potency.

Young Mr. Nott relaxed a little at Harry's lack of outright hostility, but was still unnerved by the winter chill of Harry's metal hands. "It's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Potter." Nott replied, his pureblood political reflexes kicking in.

Harry's grin turned a bit wider, "So what do you think of my improvements?" Harry questioned, gesturing to his arms.

"It looks like a golem skin of some sort, a metal armor spell?"

Harry looked him in the eyes and replied, "Nope, just the finest robotic limbs mundane science has made so far."

Theodore's face paled, "Mundane?" He questioned, before his mind realized, "Muggle?! That metal abomination is a muggle contraption?" he shrieked, attempting to pull his hand from Harry's iron grip.

Harry's expression remained cheerful, as if he hadn't yet noticed the boy's panicking discomfort. "Yep, my arms, legs, and body in general were so badly damaged at one point that the only way to save me were to have robotic augmentations placed within me."

At this point, Harry decided a little dramatic flair and two black reflective lenses emerged from the metal slots around his eyes. It gave him a vague appearance of an insect, and had the effect of Nott doubling his struggles to get away from Harry and his unrelenting grip. "Let me go you mudblood freak! Get away from me!"

Harry still smiled, even as his hand charged with over a million volts of electrical power. The heir of the Nott family didn't even squeal as the energy force consciousness from his body. Theodore's knocked out form rolled out of his seat and unto the unforgiving floor. At the moment the surge electrified Nott, Harry released him.

"My first family died because of bigots who use that word... it really, really irritates me."

The moment Nott hit the floor, a dark haired man with a large hooked nose leaped from his seat with his wand extended. "Potter! What did you do to him?" The man demanded.

Harry's augmentations scanned the man using the 'Eye-know' retinal prosthesis, within 0.13 seconds Harry Potter had downloaded and learned the majority of the man's publicly known history. "Potions Master Snape," Harry began, addressing Snape with his internationally recognized title, "I was simply teaching young Mr. Nott a lesson. Namely, do not be a bigot anywhere near me or around me. When I see bigotry I tend to act a bit... harshly."

Snape's wand never lowered a centimeter, "You didn't answer my question Potter. What did you do to render Mr. Nott unconscious?"

Harry glanced at the heap that was Nott, an action hidden behind the visors covering his synthetic eyes, "Oh. That. I just pumped him full of about a million volts of electricity. No more than a super charged stun-gun."

Snape turned to Headmaster Dumbledore with a myriad of emotions playing out on his face, the most obvious being anger, "Headmaster, the boy just confessed in front of the whole school that he attacked Mr. Nott without due cause."

The headmaster shook his head in the negative, "Alas Severus, I cannot. Due to Harry's 'status' we cannot expel him from Hogwarts or the contract that keeps him here in England will be broken." Dumbledore stared straight at Harry, "I know what games your playing Mr. Potter, however just because your keeping yourself from being sent to Azkaban does not mean you will not be punished."

"Isn't that just like the leader of the light to support the blood purists. You fucked up old hypocrite. " Harry spat viciously.

"Language Mr. Potter." Dumbledore chided gently.

"Since my good mood has been ruined by unpunished bigoted slurs and your hypocrisy, can I get sorted now so I can eat then go back to pissing you off until you release me and I can go home?"

"Hogwarts is your home Mr. Potter."

"No, my home is in Detroit. Hogwarts is my prison, and you are my warden. Now shut up and sort me. I've got two years to burn before your ministry's contract expires and then I'm gone from this god forsaken land."

"Very well, Minerva the sorting hat please?" Dumbledore gestured and one of the teachers placed a stool and a very old hat in front of Harry.

"Lets just get this over with." Harry yanked the hat on his head and sat on the stool, grumbling under his breath.

"_This is interesting..._" a voice drawled in his head.

"_Oh you are shitting me. A telepathic hat?_" Harry questioned back.

"_You are an odd one Mr. Potter. These... improvements of your make it quite difficult to sort you. I daresay you are the greatest challenge I have ever had._"

"_Okay, then to sum it up for you hat: I am here against my will, I want to see the government burn to ashes for what they've done, and lastly I want to go home to my dad and get my freedom back._"

"_Is that all Mr. Potter? If so better be..._"

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Harry Potter was doing what he did best when utterly pissed off. Burning holes in the atmosphere with a loaded arsenal of pyrotechnic spells. He was particularly fond of the infernal flamethrower and delayed blast fireball spells. Thankfully Harry was launching his arsenal across the Hogwarts lake, where the searing flames could fizzle out harmlessly.

"Dad, do you read me?" Harry activated the info-link built into his head. "Come on old man, we both know you've been waiting for me to call, now answer dammit!"

"Harry?" David Sarif's voice answered, "Are you okay? Is something wrong? Do I need to send Malik and Adam to pick you up?"

Harry smiled despite the situation. "I'm fine dad, just royally, royally pissed off. I've spent the last two months doing everything in my power to piss The head-bastard off and all he does is smile. I stun gunned a student right in-front of him and he didn't even lift an eyebrow! I practically called him a racist bigot and he just sat there and took it! He acts like a fucking saint!" Harry ranted.

"Keep calm Harry, at most it is two years, once your an adult to them they cannot keep you there. Just don't do anything illegal. Thanks to that stupid loop-hole if you get kicked from Hogwarts we can break the contract, but the headmaster has to expel you from the school. Don't do anything illegal enough to get the law involved. Your freedom depends on you either graduating their crappy school or being allowed to leave it by choice."

"I know. The school year is really gonna piss me off however."

"Why is that?"

"I got sorted into the Lion house, you know the one that full of magically superior bigots who pretend they're better than the 'evil' bigots."

"Harry I know you hate bigots, but please try not to permanently maim anyone. Remember if it gets to bad, find a place to hide and hop into the bag. Its got a fully built replica of our house in there."

"I know dad."

"Also, keep your eyes out for any manipulations, I wouldn't put it past the old bastard to try to bribe you into staying."

"I know dad."

"Keep in mind that in the worst case one of Lord frenchy's old minions will want to try to hurt you to revive their cause, if that happens all the rules go out the window. First sight of an assassin you send out the S.O.S. And I'll have a full team en route within seconds."

"Does that mean I can use-" Harry started.

"No! The Diabolus has never been tested in such a magic heavy environment. It might save you, or it could burn out all of your augments in seconds." David scolded.

"Fine, I still say I can handle it."

"Harry its not a matter of if you can handle it. It what it could do to you. You've got plenty of other tools at your disposal. If all of that and whatever magic they teach you isnt enough then the Diabolus wouldn't cut it anyways."

An alert popped up in Harry's visor, the 'Wayfinder' Radar was picking up someone approaching. "I gotta go dad, someone's coming and I don't wanna do the two conversations at once thing."

"Call me when you can son, and take care of yourself."'

"Bye dad."

The overly grumpy potions master entered the scene, wand in hand and sneer on his face. "Talking to yourself Potter?"

Harry tapped the side of his head, "Nope, Built in communicator. The Sarif Industries Info-link Telecommunications Package. I speak or think it, they hear it. Thanks to satellite technology, I can talk to my father from anywhere in the world without problems."

If anything the potion master's sneer grew more pronounced. "Your a liar and a fool Potter. Muggle technology will not work on Hogwarts' grounds."

Harry rubbed the bridge of his nose feeling a migraine coming on. "Okay, I'll just cut this short. Your an idiot, I'm part frigging machine. If my electronics didn't work here I would be dying or dead right now because I'm missing too many vital organs to live without my machine parts."

Snape turned a shade of puce, apparently students hadn't called him an idiot in quite a while."How dare you! Your an arrogant whelp just like your father."

"David Sarif is a great man, and runs one of the biggest augmentation and computer companies on the planet, selling to both magical and mundane worlds. He's got a damn good reason to be a bit arrogant, whats your excuse?" Harry spit back.

"That muggle piece of dirt isn't who I'm talking about!" Snape yelled.

"Then who the fuck are you on about? James Potter? He's not my dad, hes the bloke who banged my mom then died, that's it. They were my birth parents and that's it. I don't remember them, I don't care about them. As far as I care the vaunted boy-who-lived died with them too. If you've got a beef with James Potter then go piss on his grave." Harry turned to walk away, not paying attention to the confusion playing about on Snape's face.

Snape was stunned, nobody had ever insulted James Potter in front of him. For years Snape had hated and loathed the spawn of James Potter, but here was someone who didn't hero worship him for his sacrifice. His own son no less! Desperately Snape's anger searched for some reason to hate the child, anything would do. Then Harry's words hit him, the boy didn't even care about his mother's sacrifice! The very reason Harry lived was because his mother gave her life for son. And He Didn't Care!

"How dare you!" Snape cried, twisting about and launching a non-verbal cutting curse at the boy's backside.

The spell struck along Harry's left shoulder blade, a move that should have removed the boy's left arm. Instead, the metal limb was completely untouched, the magic washed over it upon impact and dissipating. Harry turned, a frown upon his face, "I'm going to give you one second to explain that before I break you." Harry stated calmly.

The fact that his curse had no effect was lost to Snape's rekindled rage, "She loved you enough to die for you, and save you from the dark lord... And You Don't Care! Sectumsempra!" He bellowed with fury.

The flash of light sliced from Snape's wand to Harry's chest, slicing over his heart and lungs. A Curse that would instantly slain a normal man. For Harry it ruined his tank-top, the ruined cloth sliding off.

Harry glanced at the destroyed piece of his wardrobe, "I really hate the fact that I can't kill you." He stated.

Before Severus Snape's astonished eyes Harry briefly glowed yellow, before fading from sight altogether. Not a sound, nor trace, nor stray hair gave the boy away. Snape swirled about, looking for a target, before feeling a fright train ram into his back, followed by two powerful strikes to his stomach, followed by a knee shattering blow.

The now crippled potions master fell to the ground, dropping his wand. The pile of grease that called itself a man, stretched out his hand for his wand only to feel a foot step upon both, snapping the wand and grinding the shattered tool into his hand causing great pain.

Another blow to the face removed his mind from the conscious realm.

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After leaving the 'injured' body of the school potion master laying sprawled out in the hospital wing, Harry took to doing as he had been for the previous two months since his imprisonment, wandering the school.

The ghosts were boring, the kitchens mildly entertaining, but the majority of the school held nothing of interest for the cyborg. No mystery, no magic, nothing to keep his augmented brains busy. The topic of bedeviling Dumbledore was fun for a while, but with no progress on that front it quickly lost its worth.

For what seemed like the millionth time, Harry questioned how he was going to get through the two years necessary for his freedom.

Before Harry's thoughts could drift towards the morose and angst filled, a diminutive and squeaky voice cut in, "Mr. Potter. Might I have a word?"

Harry glance around, finally noticing a short man who was looking at him with intent beady eyes. "Um...Hello?" Harry tried diplomatically.

"Mr. Potter, I am Professor Flitwick. The Hogwarts charm master and dueling expert."

Harry was confused at the polite introduction, that did not meet the fierce glare the man was possessing. "How can I help you professor?"

"You can answer a few questions for me, Mr. Potter. First, what exactly is your problem with the Headmaster?"

"_So that what the glare is for..." _Harry matched Flitwick's glare with one of his own. "My problem with the head-bastard is that he assisted in my legalized kidnapping, and forced me to come to this country without taking into account my family's interests or my own."

Flitwick shook his head at Harry's words, "The Minister, the ministry, and others all had their part as well. You seem to have a particular venom towards the Headmaster. Why?"

Harry's glare increased. "Some things are better left in the past, Professor. Some people make mistakes, the better people try and make up for it, the worst of humanity will keep repeating it. Mark my words, if the headmaster keeps up his mistakes with me I will hang him with his own stripped flesh and gladly kiss a dementor for the opportunity."

Flitwick paled, "What could he have possibly done to deserve such fury from you?"

Harry eyes narrowed at flitwick, no longer hidden by the visors. For a brief moment Harry's eyes glowed with an infernal light, not magic, nor technology, it was as if the pure fury of the nine hells flowed out of the augmented boy's eyes for an instant. "Go to your glorious 'leader of the light' ask him about a man name Vernon Dursley from Surrey. Ask him what that man did to deserve his execution. And ask him how I came to be in that monster's hands."

Harry turned away, once again glowing with yellow light, and vanished from sight.

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"Disobedience, in the eyes of any one who has read history, is man's original virtue. It is through disobedience that progress has been made, through disobedience and through rebellion. "

~Oscar Wilde, The Soul of Man Under Socialism


	2. First Day of Classes

Unlike the vast majority of Hogwarts students Harry enjoyed starting off his School week with History of Magic. The thrill of the Bhaalspawn wars, the History of the demonic Jon Irenicus and his fall from the elven peoples, the tales of the Drow controlled Underdark... Wait. Never-mind, Harry Potter only enjoyed the mind numbing drone of Professor Binns simply because he was capable of playing adventure games while the old ghost rambled on and on about goblin wars.

Many students were confused by Harry's enthusiasm in class. It was too bad none of them could play the Baldur's gate series in class and get away with it.

History of Magic was followed by Transfiguration classes. Which of course led to Harry proving he was an utter bastard once again.

"Mr. Potter! Are you paying attention?" A stern voice broke him out of his gaming trance. Apparently the old crone teaching the class was not another rambling spirit, instead she was a rambling spinster in desperate need of a good humping.

Harry sighed, pausing his game and removing it from his HUD. "How can I help you Professor?" Harry asked sweetly.

The sour professor's eyes narrowed. "I was asking if you were paying attention to my class Mr. Potter."

"Not in the slightest."

"Excuse me?" The old woman asked incredulous.

"I said, 'not in the slightest' implying that I don't care about your class and I was paying attention to something that was preoccupying me more."

"And what is so much more important Mr. Potter?" The professor questioned with venom seeping into her tone.

"I was planning how I could kill Jon Irenicus before he consumed the gods by corrupting the elvish tree of life. So far I've defeated his elemental guardians and destroyed the demon leeches he planted on the divine tree, but that son of a bitch keeps trying to kill me by impaling me with fire arrows or launching arcs of chain lightning." Harry's eyes were filled with conviction, determination, and a small amount of insanity. Between his passionate statement and the look on his face it was hard not to believe that he was fighting a cursed elven madman.

Minerva McGonnagal's eyes rose into her gray hairline. "When did this start Mr. Potter?"

"It started just before the Ministry's contract was signed, at that point I was still helping people in Amn looking for signs of Irenicus and his minions. The bastard was in hiding after being captured and arrested by the city protectors, the cowled wizards. The cowled bastards locked him away in their prison, 'Spellhold'. Took me a month to get the local thieves guild to help me break into the fortress and hunt down Irenicus."

"What do you mean thieves guild?"

Harry grinned, an annoyed twitch in his eyes. "The Shadow Thieves of Amn. They sent a man to meet me after I escaped Irenicus' dungeons. For twenty thousand gold coins they would tell me all I needed to know about Irenicus and help me hunt him down as well. Somehow I gathered fifteen thousand. The moment I collected that much, they cut me a deal and decided that would be enough."

McGonnagal's mouth thinned into a slit and her eyes sharpened."Dungeon Mr. Potter? What do you mean dungeon? What happened to you to make you want to hunt down this man in the first place?"

Harry looked around at the class, some of them were open mouthed and in various states of awe. Every one of them believed that Harry had lived through all of his tale so far. Harry turned a sheepish look to McGonnagal, "Are you sure you want me to say in front of everybody? Its kinda graphic..."

The transfiguration professor turned to her other students. "Classed Dismissed! Get your things and go." She commanded.

Harry waited until the last of the students cleared out. "Irenicus was curse by his people for trying to obtain divine power, he hoped to break his curse by extracting an evil essence from my body by implementing various tortures to me and my friends." McGonnagal moved to cut him off, but Harry shushed her and continued, "He trapped my friend Minsc in a cage with no doors, intending to imprison him for the rest of his life and when that didn't break him and when that didn't work he tortured his lover Dynaheir to death in front of him. My friend Khalid was killed by a thousand cuts all over his body, we found his cold corpse when we made our escape. Jaheira was fortunate, she was only thrown into a magically bound cage, however her husband was Khalid. Jaheira was devistated by his death and we had to pause our escape to give him his last rites. "

McGonnagal was pale, tears were gathering in her eyes. "What was it that Irenicus wanted?"

Harry looked her in the eyes, "It was the piece of a monster that had been hidden in my body. A shard of a lord of murder who had lost his mortal body. Irenicus wanted the piece of soul for some time, and while he didn't get it from me at the dungeons he managed to get it from me later on."

"What do you mean?"

"Spellhold was a trap. The island prison was converted to a madhouse for more of Irenicus experiments on mages. He used a spell on me and stole a fragment of myself containing the dark shard. I've hunted him down to get it back. With the darkness inside him Irenicus' power is outrageous."

"I see Mr. Potter. If you'll excuse me, I need to see the headmaster." The transfiguration professor practically rushed from the room, leaving Harry behind grinning to himself.

Harry activated his info-link, "_Hey dad, wanna help me annoy the shit out of the leader of the light?_"

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Harry's mischief for the day really should have stopped with his stunt in McGonnagal's class. However Harry was never that nice to people who piss him off. Thus bored, and with free time established from skipping the potions class, Harry discovered a book in the Hogwarts library that would lead to many many headaches. The book was entitled; _"Glyphs, Runes, and Other Markings: Ways to Enchant Without Wands." _The book was intriguing, especially the glyphs. Glyphs were spells cast by making markings out of raw magic. It during his free time Harry memorized and practiced a simple but endlessly useful glyph. The Glyph of Repulsion.

The marking was little more than a four point star in a circle, but the effect it had was hilarious. The moment the symbol was touched by anyone but the caster, it launched them into the air with double the force they touched it with. Harry placed a glyph in front of a few bookshelves and covered his laughter as numerous Hogwarts students found themselves airborne without an obvious cause.

A crueler part of Harry wondered what repelling glyphs would do if added to a gun somehow. For the meantime he would settle for watching Dumbledore's students being launched skyward at awkward times.

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Dumbledore was disturbed by his transfiguration teacher's report. An American dark lord that was stealing the essence of other dark lords to increase his strength was something to be feared. After dismissing Professor McGonnagal, the headmaster wrote a quick letter to the American ministry for magic, requesting a representative to meet at the earliest convenience.

Minerva's re-telling of Harry's story raised many questions and little answers for England's premiere headmaster. The old man was pondering many of the details of what he had been told. At any rate, it appeared that Harry's skill with magic was beyond what had been predicted, and the abilities of his mechanical additions were still mostly unknown. Dumbledore shuddered at the thought of the cold steel that was attached to Magical England's hero. The very thought of the machinery in the teen's flesh was an abomination to the headmaster's sensibilities.

Dumbledore gazed at the phoenix whom had been his companion for many years, wondering for if there was ever a way to heal Harry back to human form again, or if he would be doomed to be the inhuman thing he had been forced to become.

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Draco Malfoy was a pureblood, and proud of that fact. Overly so. At his young age, he should have been focusing more on studies or perhaps a budding interest in the fairer sex. Instead he was plotting on revenge for a slight that was delivered by the boy who lived. Theodore Nott and the Malfoy heir had been allies against the mudblood filth that had been polluting the school.

Directly after Dumbledore's announcements about the upcoming tournament young Malfoy passed word amongst the Slytherin dinner table, Harry Potter would pay and Malfoy wanted volunteers.

That night after dinner had begun, fifteen Slytherin students waited in ambush outside the corridors that lead to Gryfindor tower. Each student was skilled in dueling, had a large arsenal of spells, and most importantly (in their minds,) purebloods. They had each taken a position that would allow them to bombard the metal freak that was Harry Potter. They waited for hours, each wanting to end their growing hunger and discomfort due to waiting for so long.

Alas, they were due for a long wait. Harry Potter was not in the Castle.

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Delores Umbridge was a despicable woman, and the word woman is used very, very loosely. Throughout her career in the Ministry of Magic she made a living by stomping on the lives of others with prejudice, heavy handed tactics, and life destroying blackmail. Needless to say, very few people on Earth would mourn her passing. The few who did would forget after the fifth day.

Fortunately for the good of humanity as a whole, her life was soon to end.

As the hated undersecretary to the Minister enjoyed a large meal consisting of several unhealthy dishes Harry Potter was outside of her estate busy eliminating the protections she had paid so much for. As she dined on a meal that would bankrupt a lesser family, Harry located and broke down the wards and traps that surrounded the structure. As Umbrage greedily gulped down expensive wines that were illegally sized from Mundane-borne families, Harry was erecting an anti-magic array.

The first clue Umbridge had that something was wrong was when her perfectly heated house charms failed, at the same time her ever-lit candles extinguished. It took her a moment to draw her wand in the darkness, the magical focus had been drenched in gravy due to her hands scattering dinner dishes in the dark. The moment the wand was ready in her hand, the pudgy toad-like woman tried several spells and charms to make light.

To her horror and utter dismay her wand gave no reaction. No spark, no surge of magic, nothing at all. A terrible cold sensation blossomed within her stomach. With growing panic she tried multiple spells. Each with no reaction. With a terrified fury the Minister's official right hand tried in vain to cast any spell she knew, even the darkest of the black arts. Still her wand gave no reaction.

She tried different arcane motions, pronounced the spells in different ways. As her terror turned to pure fear she finally felt warmth. A blossom of red erupted from her abdomen, the air tinted by a mist of crimson erupting from her chest.

She felt her wand be plucked from her still outstretched hand as a cruel echoing voice spoke softly, "Die in total despair, you disgusting bitch."

The prejudiced hag died without seeing her killer's face. Harry watched her pass with a sense of satisfaction. With a flurish and a bit of anger he placed her wand on her front door and drove an iron dagger into it, pinning it to the door and removing its magic with the cold iron's touch.

As a final insult to her memory Harry laid a set of parchment beside her cooling corpse that listed her crimes and misdeeds. A curse was layered into the material that would compel anyone who read from it, to read the list aloud. It would make the investigation eventful.

His work completed Harry disassembled the array, and cleansed the home of any mundane evidence that he was there. With a mad grin Harry disappeared from the crime scene with an echoing air-splitting crack. The noise drew the attention from neighboring homes and calls to the Auror's were made. In less than an hour, the body of Delores Umbridge would be found, her life extinguished by unknown means.

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That night Harry sat underneath a pale moon, conversing to an unseen person.

"That's Right. The target was taken out without any evidence left behind."

Harry's eyes glared as he listened to the unseen foe make his threats.

"Remember our deal, after this you leave my father alone."

On the other end of the line, more orders were given.

"Mission Accepted." Harry ended his call. He had one week to locate and capture a ministry unspeakable. Life was never easy.


	3. Beauxbatons and Durmstrang

After committing an assassination most people hide, avoid drawing attention to themselves, or doing anything that might make people suspicious.

"I feel irrational! So confrontational! To tell the truth I am...Getting away with murder!" Sang Harry as he ate breakfast in the great hall..

Obviously the adoptive son of David Sarif ignored those rules as he sang along with the lyrics of Papa Roach 'Getting Away with Murder.' Harry grinned when he wasn't singing or eating, and was blatantly enjoying all the awkward looks he was getting. The looks may have been from the fact that Harry was listening to a built in MP3 Player, preventing anyone from hearing the music as well.

The looks over breakfast got worse as the songs switched, with Harry still singing merrily. Switching from the American rock music of Papa Roach, to The cruel sounding German of Ramstein's Du Riechet So Gut, to the rapid Japanese rock tones of Kishida Kyoudan and the Akeboshi Rockets. Harry's singing was a culture shock to the British, and a viciously obscure one at that.

Harry left the great hall singing AC/DC's 'Highway to Hell' at the top of his lungs. The accompanying air guitar solo just added to the confusion.

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Albus Dumbledore was alarmed.

That morning, as Mr. Potter was singing in multiple languages, The esteemed headmaster received a very disturbing response from the American Magical government. A letter detailing an impossibly long list of crimes, a sketching of Irenicus, and an short statement. 'Be careful'.

The implications of such a statement were enormous. It could mean that this dark lord was so powerful that they dared not send more information, or perhaps that they were afraid of letting knowledge of him leave their borders.

The panicking headmaster strolled the grounds of his school, wondering what effects Irenicus would have in the long run.

As Albus passed by a set of windows overlooking the grounds he was witness to a strange sight, Harry Potter fighting two earth golems and several Slytherin students empty handed... and winning.

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Harry was having a blast. First some blond jackass bothers him while he was trying to get in some morning exercises, then a few of his friends join in when Harry shoved the blond out of the way, then threats started to fly, then a few of the older jackasses conjured golems... Harry supposed he should stop listening to music at some point but it was fun kicking the pompous crud out of out of shape teenage wizards to the rhythm of 'Diggy-MO'

Harry cracked his knuckles, charging an electrical current between his fingers for effect. The first golem was comprised mostly of loose dirt and sand, good for capturing and quick reinforcement. It took two punches to the face and a spin kick for Harry to return it to a pile of dirt.

The second golem was made of a mix of gravel and clay, incredibly slow but moderately strong. Harry's response was to run up the seven foot rock monster and cleave it in half with an elbow drop. To the astonishment of everyone but the B.O.W. Boy-Who-Lived the monster split in half from the point of impact.

Without bothering to reactivate his ears, Harry turned to his potential victims, and asked plainly "Who's next?"

The blond ass yelled something with an enraged expression. Harry pointedly ignored him. Nonchalant attitudes from a spell-casting cybernetic American British hero always seemed to cause conflict. As was the normal, Harry ignoring the self-important British pure-blood pissed them off even further, causing the seven teens to launch a volley of lethal spells.

Harry dodged them all with a set of inhuman acrobatic maneuvers. twisting in midair, flipping and spinning on the ground. The slowest of the maneuvers would put a ballerina to shame, the fastest seemed impossible to replicate even with magic. Harry's odd evasive dance dodged all of the fired spells with ease, outstripping the quickest shots entirely.

The first of the wizard opponents were taken down by one of the most powerful martial arts techniques, an ancient art used across the globe and considered to be a technique of pure evil. Harry kicked him in the balls. The Sixth year lost all appearance of prestige as he dropped to the ground squealing in pain and loosing all bladder control. His impact on the ground was followed by Harry snap-kicking him in the head, rendering him unconscious.

The second charged at Harry, launching volleys of cutting curses, His defeat was immediate. Harry rushed him at the exact same time, running up his body following with a trailing double kick to the chin. The second sixth year lost a few teeth and the ability to speak for months.

Harry's third target remained standing to close by, even after watching two golems and two classmates get their collective asses kicked in close range combat. He too was defeated by a kick to the wedding tackle followed by roundhouse kick that would bring unknown pride to Bruce Lee. Future rag dolls number four and five had their heads clapped together before being backhanded into the land of dreams, the impact of Harry's pimp strike having knocked them onto the still suffering number three.

Number six tried in vein to run away, He was taken down by Harry throwing a shoe he borrowed (read: stole) from a defeated Snake themed student. The Shoe struck the coward with perfect precision tripping him to the ground. "And you're out!" Harry called, kicking the downed boy's gut for added insult and injury.

Number seven, Draco Malfoy, was in shock. What was supposed to be an easy show of force against the muggle made freak had turned into a one-sided fight that ended with the nobles utterly shamed. Malfoy leveled his wand at Harry. An internal eruption curse was launched from the Heir's wand, a dark brown beam of magic with an unclean feel to it. The curse was banned world wide as a near instant killer.

Harry turned, his eyeglasses sliding onto his face as he caught the spell in his hand and crushed it in a crackle of multicolored sparks. Harry finally turned off his music, annoyed with the blond haired brat who was aiming lethal curses at him. "Buddy, I am gonna beat your ass." Harry disappeared in a dark blur, reappearing fifteen feet away, directly beside The Malfoy heir. The boy had time to blink before Harry grabbed him by the throat and launched him into the air with brute force. The airborne annoyance had time for panic flailing before he was struck again this time launching him to the ground with enough force to bounce him off the ground and skip across the dirt before impacting against a tree on the beach side of the school lake.

The pure-blood's pure blood was slowly dripping from his face as the boy realized what sort of a monster he had angered. Harry however wasn't in the mood to allow his pray another chance. With another darkened blur, the metallic teen was beside the group leader. A sword extending from from Harry's forearm pinned the heir by the collar of his shirt, while Harry's other hand held both of his victim's hands together.

"Kid, I don't care who you are. I don't care what glory you think you have, but if you dare cast a class five dark curse at me of any type I will end you." Harry accentuated his point by sending a catastrophic load of electricity from his hands into the now terrified boy. The child who played at being a man cried out in pain for barely a second before passing out. Harry glared at him in contempt for a moment, before tossing him aside.

As Harry left the already forgotten forms of his foes, Albus Dumbledore stood at his window with a look of shock and awe upon his face.

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As Harry was plotting mischief and mayhem for Hogwarts, David Sarif was plotting to make hell for Albus Dumbledore. After a dozen or so meetings worldwide there were dozens of people, both mundane and magical, who were spreading tales and leaving evidence of Harry Potter's battles with Jon Irenicus. An American mercenary mage played the role of Irenicus perfectly. In return for some military grade augmentations the man would run across the world, leaving a trail in the underground rumor mills. Thus the real Jon Irenicus was born, a Sarif Industries employee turned magical super villain..

The American magical associations were more than happy to release falsified documents about the 'Dark Lord Irenicus'. They were still very sore about being financially blackmailed to give up one of their citizens. If Harry's plan went off without a hitch then Dumbledore would have a massive black eye to show to the international community.

Who would take him seriously after they learn that he would waste a massive load of resources in the search for a seven year old video game character? Dumbledore would be lucky if he would ever be taken seriously again.

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Sirius Black was a certified madman. With a view threats and a professional assassin placed outside Sarif Industries, Umbridge was dead and his plans were progressing at an accelerated pace. The minister's toady had been asking the wrong questions. Questions about different events, stolen items and a few pure-blooded murder victims. All it would take to throw off Sirius' plans would be a few discoveries made at the right time or even one of his deliveries to be intercepted. That could not be allowed to happen.

Sirius paced around the living room of his hideout, casually flinging conjured knives at multiple photos hanging on the walls of the room. They would pay, they would all pay. First for locking him away without even a trial, then for losing Harry. Sirius stared at a copy of the Daily Prophet, looking at an image of the abomination that claimed to be his grandson. The picture Harry made various poses, showing off his metal limbs and additions to his body. Sirius glared at the photo, raw hatred pulsing in his veins. How could nobody see it! The desecration of their savior's remains!

Harry was dead, and this... _Thing..._ was all that was left of James and Lily's son. Still the undead thing that had been Harry had its uses. As long as Sirius held a metaphorical blade over David Sarif and all of Sarif Industries then the freak would listen and obey.

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That night the great hall was excited, after weeks of waiting two foreign schools were supposed to arrive and names submitted for the Tri-wizard tournament. Harry didn't care for any of it, and instead of primping up to show off for the school was preparing a vat of heated stink sap to be poured out of Hogwarts' ancient unused murder holes. Harry felt like he was being an overly vindictive bastard for about three seconds, but figured it would be an excellent attempt to get expelled from Hogwarts. If dumping permanently stinking plant sap onto the students and faculty of Dumbledore's school in time for them to be an international laughing stock didn't work then the man would at the very least look the fool in front of the whole world, which was just gravy.

Harry prepared for the evening by causing a few more adaptations to his already defiant wardrobe. Sweat pants, a tank-top and sandals. Harry didn't stop there. If he was going to shamelessly embarrass Albus too-many-titles-for-his-own-goddamned-good Dumbledore then he had to do it in a worse style than before, to that end, Harry grabbed his bag of holding and pulled out four unattached prosthetic arms and proceeded to secure them properly to a set of external arm ports.

If the sight of a Six armed savior of the world greeting them in front of a Scottish castle in his pajamas didn't do the trick Harry was going to be pissed. Seriously, he looked like a larval form of a cybernetic spider man. Harry took a few moments longer than normal to activate and coordinate the secondary prostheses, If tonight got a decent reaction out of the Hogwarts crowd then he was going to keep them on constantly. The four extra arms attached to the area where the shoulder blades were on a normal human. Harry conjured a mirror admiring his reflection, in his biased opinion he looked like a cyberpunk version of the far eastern deity Asura.

Two hours later Harry stood beside the entrance hall of Hogwarts watching as Dumbledore tried in vein to vanish the Stink sap. Unfortunately for him Harry had sprinkled frozen iron shavings into the sap before the big pour. As the laws of magic stated, cold metal of any type blocked magic entirely, and Harry was a master of using that to irritate spell casters worldwide.

As the staff of Hogwarts tried in vein to make their students appear appropriate a flying carriage arrived unnoticed by all until they landed outside the castle doors. Three dozen French beauties lead by a very tall woman exited the carriage and were instantly stunned by the sight of the stink sap victims. Harry took this as his cue and walked past the sap covered crowd bowing respectively in front of the Beauxbatons students and Headmistress. If the crowds were stunned before, the sight of a semi-robotic six armed Harry Potter in what appeared to be his pajamas caused most of them to re-evaluate their state of mind. Harry also included the hidden gesture of scratching his ass with one of his spare arms.

"Greetings Students and Headmistress of Beauxbatons, I am Harry Potter, the unwilling prisoner of Hogwarts." As predicted the Hogwarts students flinched, Dumbledore paled, and watching from a surveillance satellite, David Sarif smiled at his son's antics.

The very tall woman approached Harry and shook his hand gingerly, but observing the artificial limb with unveiled interest. "A pleasure Mr. Potter, I have heard of your exploits worldwide. I am Madame Maxime, the Headmistress of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. "

Harry didn't react, only raising an eyebrow at the comment. "My exploits?" he questioned, politely.

"Your battles against the dark lord Irenicus, of course. Ever since Dumbledore started his inquiry, Irenicus has been on the run from the Americans and has been sighted worldwide. In fact, he was recently sighted in France where he attempted to steal several artifacts in the hands of the Muggle government."

"Ah, I see." Harry replied, catching on. Apparently his father had been hard at work giving the magical world governments a black magic goose to chase. Harry idly wondered who was playing the role of Jon Irenicus. "If that is the case, maybe soon I'll get my chance to finally finish what I started with him."

Madame Maxime nodded politely, dismissing herself and her girls into the castle and moving hastily away from the still sap covered Hogwarts students.

Not long after the French quests finished filling into Hogwarts a swirling whirlpool formed in the Black Lake. The swirl picked up strength and speed quickly, only settling when a wooden ship breached from the waters. Harry saw the ship appear in the lake, pulling a large silver canister from a pocket. Time for a test run.

The ship docked at the edge of the Lake, along plank ejected and made a walkway for the Durmstrang students to cross on. The students emerged, walking down the plank in a military-esque manner. The students finished their showy march to Hogwarts by organizing themselves in a formation in front of the Hogwarts' greeting party. The students stood, ignoring the stink sap smells and commentary. A few still gave Harry's extra limbs a glance.

The moment Harry was waiting for was when the Headmaster appeared. Igor Karkaroff, a known pure blood bigot. It was time for another international black eye for magical England.

The Durmstrang headmaster was dressed in blatantly rich furs and silk robes. The man's outfit was a disgusting display of wealth and supposed superiority. He eyed the Hogwarts students with disdain, snobbishly keeping his nose turned away as if they were covered with filth. Which they were. Harry idly supposed that perhaps the disgusted looks were deserved.

Karkaroff's disgusted looks at Harry were just what the cyborg was hoping for. "Oy!" Harry called when the man glared at him, "You got a problem with me or something?" Harry questioned, crossing two arms over his chest and extending the other two pairs wide.

You'd expect the headmaster of a distinguished academy of magic to not rise to such obvious bait, yet still he did. "Could you please cover up those things if your going to be in the open like that." Karkaroff demanded rudely.

Harry got right in his face, "Why? It's just mundane science. Don't tell me the fact that normal people being able to make better things than magic offends you?"

Karkaroff sneered, and his glare intensified. Harry noted eagerly that the foreign headmaster's hand was inching close to his wand. "Muggles are incapable of anything close to the majesty and beauty of magic! If you were a real wizard you would know that!" The man spat with disdain. Harry's Computer-Assisted Social Interaction Enhancer noted the man's facial features, his flushed face and heavy breathing. If the man didn't vent his anger soon, he might die from a stroke.

The augmented prisoner of Hogwarts grabbed the man's shoulder with fake concern. "Are you okay old timer? You look like your going to have a heart attack." Harry mocked.

"Don't touch me you freak!" Karkaroff screamed, whipping out his wand and pointing at Harry's face. The student's of Durmstrang took a defense position around their headmaster, their wands also drawn and pointed at the boy who lived.

"Oh my..." Harry drawled loudly, "It appears that I am being threatened! I have to defend myself!" Harry backed away slowly, holding out the silver canister in front of him. With a dramatic flourish Harry pulled a pin at the top of the canister, shifting his grip to hold onto a small lever at the top firmly.

"What is that you freak?" One of the Durmstrang students questioned cautiously.

Harry grinned, the visor lenses sliding into place over his eyes. "Throw one of your pathetic curses and find out. Come on, I wanna see if this little toy of mine is enough to beat all of you."

The Durmstrang students and headmaster stood still, unsure. Behind the confrontation, still covered in stink sap and watching the fiasco take place Dumbledore prepared to step in, until he realized what Harry was really up too. He couldn't step in or he'd make Hogwarts involvement official.

When Harry noticed a few Durmstrang students begin to lower their wands, along with their leader. That would not do. "Maker's breath, I didn't think bluffing with a Mundane weapon would be enough to scare off some supposedly skilled wizards."Harry jeered, "Either your smarter than the rest of the inbred fools or just afraid I can beat you all with one item."

Karkaroff's temper snapped, "Make the freak eat his words!" The Durmstrang students launched a volley of spells at Harry who merely tipped the grenade into the path of the spell fire.

The Sarif Industries M363 Chaff Grenades were originally meant to be an anti-augmentation weapon. Designed to let loose a blast of thin slivers of aluminum or metalized plastic with an accompanying dust of augmentation disabling nanomachines. Sarif industries tested and re-maid them constantly but never gained the results desired. Until one day a canister was released in the path of Harry's magic spells. Sarif Industries never got their anti-augment weapon. Instead they discovered the worlds first mundane anti-magic weapon. Where the chaff field was released, magic couldn't pass. Harry however found a better use for the Nanomachine delivery system.

The Chaff grenade that was in Harry's hand went off almost immediately. The canister erupted in a blast of floating silver dust covering the Durmstrang attackers in a gray film. Both the Durmstrang and Hogwarts groups started coughing and spitting as the dust floated over them.

Harry meanwhile started running multiple program algorithms, accessing subroutines and complex programs he did his best to design. The chaff cloud settled after a few minutes, barely lingering after the first minute and a a half. By the time the cloud was settled, the wands had returned to pointing at Harry who was grinning at his attackers with a mad look on his face.

"Was that it freak?" questioned Karkaroff, sneering again, "A little smoke and dust was all you could do?"

"Nope," Harry replied, "It does so much more than that." Harry started etended in his arms, and for a moment it looked like he was growing taller instantaneously. In truth Harry was levitating before them, no signs of magic involved. The spare arms attached to Harry's shoulders started to move rhythmically, as if they were helping Harry to float.

Harry kept his eyes on the prize, "Students," Harry addressed, at once all the Durmstrang students faced Harry at once, "Point your wands at the bigot." In unison, despite obvious effort to resist, the students all pointed their wands at a paling Igor Karkaroff. The man in question, was obviously fighting the same thing that was controlling his students. His efforts were no better.

Still floating Harry laughed, "It takes a master of the dark arts years to control a single person perfectly with an Imperious Curse. To control you and your students took only a little Mundane creativity." Harry sneered at Karkaroff. "You idiots think your magic means your better. It's just a genetic abnormality, a random chance that gives you your gift and you disgusting bigots flaunt it like your gods."

Harry stretched, returning his feet to the ground. "For years The European magical community has been seen as the inferior waste of the magical world and for good reason. You cling to your traditions, gush on and on about how worthy you are. Where are your marvels of engineering? Your voyages of discovery? Hell even a great insight into the nature of the universe would be nice."

Harry mentally commanded the Durmstrang students to lower their wands before returning to his rant. "You mages always speak so proudly of your feats of magic, but you'll never compare to the mundane people. Even at our basest, when we dressed as you do, dwelt as you do, hunted as you do, lived as you do, we did more than just survive as a culture, as a people! We built wonders. We made great journeys. We forged epics. The magical world as a whole sat in the past, never looking at the future."

Harry looked wistfully at the sky, ignoring the astonished spellcasters around him. "The mundane of this world will depart from this planet, leaving you behind. In at thousand years you will not have changed from this state your in. And as the world below rots, the stars will belong to us."

Harry looked at his litteraly captive audience briefly before returning to the castle. Outside he could still hear the chattering as the students of both schools discussed what was witnessed.

Harry didn't care he was far too busy talking to his father. _"Please tell me you got that? As much as I would like to seriously cripple that death eater scum I don't think he'll be as easy to provoke next time."_

David Sarif laughed on the other end of the line, "_The satelites recorded everything son. The nanomachines registered and activly resisted their magic. I'll have the labs start analyzing the data and start to improve on the grenades. We might get you home sooner after all._"


	4. Stalkers and Dark Lords and Stink Bombs

Harry was busy, his still attached arms moving with inhuman speed and coordination. To Harry's distain, there wasn't a huge shit-storm over his Imperious Nanomachines. You'd figure the magical world would be panicking like it was the end of days over the fact that the non-magical peoples had a weapon that could control them on a worse scale than their 'unforgivable' curses.

Anyways, if science synthesizing their stupid curses didn't cause the pain in the ass he was looking for, then this project would defiantly do! Numerous gadgets, gizmos, circuit boards, tools and trinkets were removed from Harry's paradoxical bag of holding to be reassembled into his newest monstrosity. A Cyberdog.

For centuries mages of all sorts had tried to create artificial life with magic. They came close with golems, chimeras and the like. However none of these creations were true artificial life. Golems couldn't think, chimeras were just mixes of different species, and the rest were just unmentionable failures. Were magic failed, Harry was determined to have mundane science succeed. With maybe a little magical help here or there. The biggest reason Harry wanted to do this was because as a Transfiguration master and Alchemist, Albus Dumbledore had made multiple attempts to create a working Homunculus, all failures. Harry figured that a mundane scientist doing it at the age of fourteen would hurt his pride like nothing else.

Harry's cyberdog was all metal, with nothing organic. The outer casing was regular old Iron, the most magic resistant of all metals. It would keep foreign magic out and Harry's cyberpunk infused magic in. He called his creation B.I.T.C.H. Lightning. Biological Impersonating Technological Cybernetic Hunter, Lighting Model. Harry admitted that the name was crap, He just wanted an excuse to let the cyberdog loose in Hogwarts while chanting, "Go Bitch Lighting! Go Bitch Lightning!" In the same manner as the old speed racer opening themes.

The bitchiest part of the project was the fact that Harry had to craft almost all of the materials himself. If it wasn't for the pocket dimension of the bag of holding Harry was sure that his project would never have succeeded. Hell if Harry actually bothered to attend the classes, Harry would never have the time to do any of the random hijinks that he performed to piss off the head-bastard. In fact, while Harry was practicing his blacksmithing skills, he was supposed to be attending transfiguration class with the cat teacher who's name Harry never bothered to remember. Mcdonnalds? Mcgillacutty? Mc whodafuck?

Anyways, instead of obeying Dumbledore's ridiculous requests to attend classes, Harry spent most of his time in the pocket dimension bag. The science lab in the dimensional pocket was top notch, however a blacksmiths workshop had to be made. The only flaw about working on magic resistant materials in a pocket dimension were the occasional magical surges as the materials refused to stay in existence when they were technically in a giant magical bubble. This required a constant electrical current to be run thru them, it was an unknown effect yet for some unlearned reason, running a massively high voltage through any metal lowered its innate magical resistance. Go figure.

Harry figured the easiest way to make the mind of his cyberdog wouldn't be to program it, but rather copy an already existing template then modify. And Harry had the perfect blueprint, his own mind. It took about half a day for Harry to copy his memories, then make a backup just in case, before modifying the copy. He removed a lot of the human aspects and added a ton of dog behaviors and other animal qualities for the hell of it. The cyberdog 'brain' would be a dog version of Harry Potter. A thought that would be the nightmare of mages and dog catchers alike.

Three days after starting the project, Lighting woke up. Students swore they felt the castle shudder as it happened.

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Jon Irenicus, A.K.A. Nick Holden, was busy undergoing a series of advanced augmentations. New arms, legs, plating in the torso and a number of organ additions. Each add on was top of the line and was being fully paid for by Sarif. All he had to do for a fortune in augmentations and weapons was play the villain.

Holden was a black market wizard. He traded magical wares to the mundane and mundane pleasures to the snobbish aristocracy of the magical world. However he was dying. Magic can cure many wounds, fix almost all problems, mundane or magical. Except for anything involving the spine. It seemed some parts of the body were too complex for even magic to cure. So when a steel girder nearly snapped his spine at the C-5 Vertebra he nearly lost his life, instead only losing control of his arms and control of most of his legs.

The injury was severe and magically incurable. Nick would live however, but a shadow of himself with no-one to support him sans for a house elf he could barely afford. His family shunned him for being a cripple, the contacts of the underworld refused to aid him, so he was cast aside. Unwanted, unneeded, and considered a burden to a world that had once been his oyster.

Then David Sarif appeared, with an offer that he couldn't refuse. Help protect the legendary Boy-who-lived by becoming the worst villain ever in the magical world, and in return gain more wealth and power than ever imagined in both worlds. Nick wasn't a fool. He'd be Sarif's attack dog against the magical world, same as Adam Jenson was the attack dog for the mundane world. Nick had never been big time in the underworld. His short stint as a hired wand was an utter failure, He lacked the killer instinct needed to become that. He was a liar, a smuggler, and thief but he wasn't a killer.

With only a day of hesitation Nick Holden accepted Sarif's deal. He was prepped for the first augmentation surgery the next day. A month of surgeries and he was ready. Cosmetic surgery replaced his face with the exact image of Irenicus' scared face. His ruined wardrobe was replaced with copies of Irenicus outfit from the game, down to the ear-less skullcap.

Everything needed to convince anyone he was Jon Irenicus was provided. Fake memories were programed into his brain, to fool magical truth serums, hypnosis and direct to brain transfer added a millennium of magical knowledge and memories to Nick's reprogrammed mind.. Synthetic flesh was grafted over his augments, then scarred to provide the mutilated look of Irenicus. The most expensive magical weapons were provided, Wands, arcane quarterstaves, elemental rods. David Sarif used the immeasurable wealth of Sarif industries to fund this project and insure it bore fruit.

To ensure loyalty each of the augments were tied with command overrides to both Harry and David. Numerous loyalty spells and command runes were painstakingly carved into the augments to both fuel them and ensure he would obey the commands made by Sarif. In the event that anything went wrong or the Project failed outright then they would have a means to instantly stop him via nano-machines and micro-bombs in his body. If he was captured he could self detonate before his origins could be discovered. His arms and legs were both magical focus and synthetic limbs, he could cast bare handed or with other focus without a flaw. With his implanted arcane knowledge Nick Holden could match any mage alive spell for spell. His casting rate was at a pace that most mages couldn't match even with boosting spells.

A month after Harry told his father of his plans, Nick Holden died, and in his place Jon Irenicus was born into the real world.

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As usual when Harry was causing Dumbledore's migraines, Harry was singing. "There ain't no rest for the wicked, money don't grow on trees. I got bills to pay, I got mouths to feed, Ain't nothing in this world for free." Harry was walking with a grin on his face and a spring in his step as Lightning trotted along beside him, equally as happy just being alive.

As Harry sang and walked around the corridors of Hogwarts, people were pointing and staring and hastily chatting. All eyes upon potter and his iron canine. "No I can't slow down, I can't hold back, Though you know I wish I could." At this point Harry was performing miniature dance moves and twirls as the cyberdog somehow danced beside him. Both were moving closer to the great hall and the still-waking students reactions were becoming more excited.

"No there ain't no rest for the wicked, Until we close our eyes for good. " Harry finished his song and dance march by kicking open the doors of the great hall with a colossal slam. "Greetings professors!" Harry called out jovially, _"Magister Magi_ Harry Potter is here for some grub!"

Lightning jumped out from behind his creator, and let loose a shrill howl at the heavens, drawing the attention of everything in the hall. Claiming the title of Magister Magi was normally a monumental honor, It meant that you had performed an impossible task in the field of magic. However the way Harry had used it was meant as the worst insult against all magic-kind, he was mocking their efforts and the heroes of the magical world in one go by claiming that title. Upon hearing the word Magister, the students immediately broke out into chatter but it was the three headmaster's reactions were the most entertaining; Dumbledore looked extremely pale, Madame Maxime looked rather amused, Karkaroff was foaming at the mouth. In less than a ten-day Harry Potter was proving that Mundane science not only matched magic, but trumped it too.

Harry ignored the usual sit at the houses stereotype, choosing instead to follow his nose. Curse his addiction to blueberry pancakes. As Harry sat down, Lightning took a seat right next to his master, immediately eying a plate of bacon. Harry frowned at the cyberdog, "Lightning, no. You know that bacon is bad for your health." The cyborg informed his dog.

Lighting whined pitifully. "No Lightning. I just finished you this morning. I am not spending the afternoon pulling bacon out of your biomass converter if you have a systems error."

The cyberdog placed both of his front paws on his maker's arm, whining again. Harry almost relented, almost. "Lightning, no!"

Lightning lowered his head as if shamed, and let loose a pitiful moan that would have melted the heart of the late Delores Umbridge. "Oh for fucks sake! Here!" Harry gave in, grabbing an entire platter of bacon and moving it within range of the dog, who started feeding merrily. The wagging tail of the cyberdog was a threat to anyone who dared to walk behind the cybernetic duo.

It didn't prevent a rather nosy pair of Ravenclaw girls from approaching, questions already on the tip of their tongues. Harry's Wayfinder Radar System noted them immediately, "First, watch the tail. It's dangerous. Second, yes it is a living cyberdog. Third, built in radar." Harry said without looking.

Twin gasps told Harry that he was still an expert at predicting people, or at least immature magic users. "C'est la vie." Harry muttered.

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Irenicus was never, in his short life, a patient man. In fact he preferred great haste in almost anything he worked at. That might be why he wasted no time at all with the various guards at the German Ministry of Magic. He spun, twirled, and sped across multiple halls and corridors taking down each target with a single precise strike of his staff. The pattern was simple, spot a target, lunge at them with magic or force and leave a bloody smear across the walls or floor. It was a simple method, and with his chosen weapon it worked.

The weapon in question was a South American tribal artifact called the Staff of the Ram. A single blow from the golden wood would hit with the force of a giant's fist. As it was a purely physical attack most magical barriers couldn't stop it, it would pass through uninhibited. The ministry guards saw that it was a glowing staff and assumed it was magic, and tried multiple barriers each fell as easy as the last. Irenicus decimated their numbers, nearly a hundred guards in just minutes. Staff strikes, fireball blasts, chain lightning arcs, even a few ice spears.

Irenicus was here for a set of artifacts. The ministry's time-turners. They were to be captured or destroyed, no ministry could be allowed to have such powerful artifacts at their disposal any longer. Irenicus' orders were to capture as many time turners as possible, annihilate anyone who opposed him, and if any victims showed signs of dark magic contamination to absorb their magic.

So far, there were nearly three hundred dead at his hands, seventy gave donation to his magic before being removed from the living.

There was so much to do.

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Harry was busy once again. This time his goal was to avoid his fans. Apparently a few people recognized him from his life in the Mundane world. Being the child prodigy son of a multinational cybernetics conglomerate owner tended to place you in the spotlight. The fact that Harry created his own system for multiple limb prosthesis at the age of eleven and was renowned for the creation of the Seraphim Communications Satellite Network at age thirteen ensured that his face was known across the global scientific community.

The two girls in question were Luna Lovegood, and Hermione Granger. Apparently both were geniuses and top of their class as well as social outcasts. Together they were a magical think tank with far too many ideas for the magical and mundane worlds. They knew of Sarif Industries, Harry's work, and to Harry's embarrassment they even knew all about Harry's augmentations and the extent they went to. Apparently when the girls heard over the summer that the child genius of the Mundane world and hero of the magical world was going to arrive at Hogwarts they spend their summer learning everything both worlds had to offer about him.

To be honest, Harry was rather touched, but having two fans racing after him for either his affections or his knowledge would only take time away from his escapades to get the fuck out of the country. That and they might give him a reason to stay, curse the fact that brainy girls were unbearably sexy.

So Harry did what he did best when pursued or hiding from someone. He picked a spot, bunkered down, and laid out enough traps to make anyone who tried to get to him regret it. The room he chose to defend was one of the original potions labs, located on the third floor. The corridors outside were loaded with dung bomb mines, pie-loaded trip wires, and a shoe launcher. The finale was that the potions lab was empty. A noise emitter was rigged together from some spare parts and loaded with a twelve hour sound clip of Harry when he was building Lightning. Inside the classroom was dozens of flasks filled with dung bomb concentrate. The moment any of the doors or windows were opened the flasks would be pulled by a string net and shatter. The concentrate would turn into a gas upon contact with air, and the castle would have to be fumigated for at least a day.

Harry's real location was in the bag of holding, hanging from the top of a tree at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. It would be impossible to find him, and he'd have plenty of time to relax in his own pocket dimension. If the girls didn't find the room and get dissuaded Harry had a plan B. With great skill and talent Harry had also stolen and stored all of Albus Dumbledore's favorite socks and the lifetime of potions notes made by Severus Snape. Harry was sure one of them would be stupid enough to set off the dung bomb cascade.

Several hours after Harry had hidden away in his bag he heard the enormous KA-WHOOSH that signified that the cascade was released. The cyber-boy hopped out of the bag, and gazed at the magnificent sight of Hogwarts. The beautiful highlight from the sunset, the gentle sea of stars overhead, the huge tide of brown vapor that poured out of multiple windows and the front doors.

Harry sat for a moment, and sincerely hoped that Dumbledore was standing at ground zero. Snape would have been just as good. Harry's musings were cut short by someone standing on the ground below him.

"I told you he was going to be here." The brunette stated to her companion.

"I will never again doubt your deductive reasoning or skills at profiling." the blond partner replied.

Harry looked at his stalkers, both were positioned perfectly to catch him if he tried to make a run from his treetop perch. Luna Lovegood was smiling at him merrily, in a way that screamed 'submit or die'. Hermione Granger's facial expression was torn between what Harry called 'mid-orgasm' and 'about to satisfy month long craving' all the while looking at his cybernetic limbs.

"There isn't any chance they two of you would leave me alone and let me escape would you?" He asked in vein.

The dual knockout via stun-gun and stunner spells was his answer.


	5. Harry's Girls

Harry didn't need a computer assisted social interaction enhancer to tell him he wasn't in trouble. Despite the fact that He was tied to a chair and cuffed with something that was disabling both his arm augmentations and magic. Meanwhile the face of Hermione Granger, mere inches from his own was too flushed from molesting his lips told him to not worry.

Or perhaps that was more the growing discomfort in his pants.

"Hermione, when do I get a turn?" Luna pouted and whined, drawing Harry's attention from her schoolgirl outfit to her face. Both Luna and Hermione were wearing your classic pervert's dream, the catholic school girl outfit, complete with mini-skirt and exposed navels. Harry would have escaped, he really would have, if not for the outfits, the provocative way they were speaking and that he woke up with a bushy brunette grinding into him with her lips locked on his.

It was either the worst interrogation or best way to wake up ever. Cybernetic implants and a complete disregard for the magical lifestyle did not change the fact that he was a teenager with desires. (Most of which we will not go into.) Also needless to say, Harry was rather enjoying the work over by two girls in provocative outfits bit. He's a young man, and to him, this was really sexy!

While his lips were either seized by either Hermione or Luna, Harry's eyes wandered about the room. It was a Hogwarts classroom, abandoned for some time if the dust was any hint, and all across the walls were white boards covered in notes, algorithms, and charts. There were whole books worth paper strewn about, rough designs of some of Sarif industries augmentations and even a dissected aug-arm on a table. The whole room looked like a parody of a think tank laboratory.

"I told you he wouldn't run away if we did this." Luna commented, interrupting Harry's third tongue twisting trial with Hermione. Harry agreed, mildly annoyed with the fact. Damn hormones.

Hermione daintily hopped off of Harry's lap, re-seating herself in another chair close by, and lifting a clipboard off the floor. "I know this is rather late, but I am so happy to meet you Harry."

Harry nodded, his brain still not functioning all the way. "The pleasures all mine." Harry mumbled, subtly shifting to hide his body's reaction to the lip locking.

"We know the methods were a little extreme, but we needed to talk to you and you've had a habit of ditching fans, interviewers, and fellow scientists for years." Hermione continued, still eying Harry like a meal to a starving woman.

Luna set up a chair next to Hermione, her schoolgirl outfit now partially covered by a white lab coat. Harry approved, somehow the lab coat just made it worse. "We've wanted to meet with you for so long Harry." Luna added, her eyes were lighting up with what Harry's C.A.S.I.E. identified as anticipation. "When we were younger, we both followed your exploits as the Son of David Sarif. Then when you got into the spotlight on your own, we started to idolize you."

Harry's eyes rolled, and a look of disdain crossed his features, "Please tell me you not Boy-who-lived groupies?" He groaned.

Luna and Hermione both switched from star struck and excited to utterly annoyed. "Don't group us in with those brainless twits." Luna commanded, in a very intimidating tone.

"Most Boy-who-lived fans just want you for the bragging rights, the Potter fortune and the political power that your family has." The brunette added.

Hermione's remark drew Harry's attention. "Whoa whoa, hold up a second. Whats this about a 'Potter fortune?' I was never told anything about any thing left behind by my DNA donors. I thought they left me jack shit?"

Both Hermione and Luna felt an eyebrow raise over that. Any and all Heirs that inherited anything of value usually got some form of education on their role in British Magical society. "Nobody told you this?" Luna asked.

"Nope."

"Seriously?"

"Yep. Not a word."

Luna and Hermione looked at each other and silently agreed, lip locking their idol could wait, there was educational work to be done. Soon Harry would learn two things: British magical economics and that the two women who kidnapped him had a brainy fetish that included teaching.

Poor Bastard.

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While his master was missing, Lightning was running around causing chaos. For the first time since it's start as a school, Hogwarts was without bacon. If that wasn't bad enough, there was dozens of puddles in the halls of Hogwarts. How a machine dog could produce so much urine was unfathomable. It just wasn't possible, where the school didn't stink of lingering dung bomb, it reeked of week old stale asparagus made dog urine. Where the two scents met was a crime against so many laws of nature. Many students refused to attend classes.

Lightning's rampage wasn't left with just petty bacon theft and yellow rivers running throughout the school. The teachers each discovered their personal offices had canine land mines left in impossible to predict areas. By noon, all the teachers had stepped in at least one poo-pile. The one regret Lightning had was the fact he lacked thumbs to do more with. There was only so much you could do with a fang filled robot mouth. He figured that the fact they wouldn't know how he produced so much waste material without the proper parts would make them question so many things.

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Albus Too-Many-Damn-Names Dumbledore's knees hurt. A lot.

Elders were not meant to spend hours on their knees trying to make other people happy. Spending his morning using his silver tongue to appeal to the magical upper class of Britain had left him exhausted. Albus had to use his talents on at least thirty people so far, and his throat was starting to feel rather sore and dry.

Talking to a bunch of politicians via floo network was rather unreasonable in large numbers. Who decided that the main means of magical communication needed to be done from a fireplace was mad.

The moment Harry used the title _Minister Magi_ an old spell activated causing several effects. If Harry hadn't really done something worth the title his magic would have rebounded, causing an effect similar to all the worst torture curses being cast all at once. Second, every recognized magical government received notification from detector arrays that would tell them the Who, What, and When.

So when 'Harry Potter, Class-Twelve Necromancy/Creation/Summoning/Transfiguration, 31 October 2014' appeared across the earth, a lot of people wanted answers. Albus Dumbledore had them, and nobody liked them. (Except the American magicals who were enjoying the irony)

Not for the first time, Dumbledore was reconsidering forcing Harry back to England.

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Severus Snape was angry. Scratch that, he was furious. As he laid in a bed in the hospital wing, all that occupied his mind was how he would hurt whom ever had made that horrifying trap. His mind was fast on the road to homicidal obsession. Noticing her patient's blood pressure and increasing agitation she gave him a dreamless sleep potion, which sent him to oblivion.

Too bad the Hogwarts' healer never noticed Lightning sneaking in, equipped with shaving cream and a barber's tool set. After all, something had to be done about the potion master's hair.

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Lord Voldemort was upset.

This was something that had been a regular event for the last thirteen or so years, after the destruction of his body. The self proclaimed lord was thinking, something that usually meant disaster or destruction in the near future. The Boy who lived had been revealed to him again, but now things have changed because of it.

With his mutilation and merger with muggle filth the Boy was no longer a predictable puppet for the light, but rather a wild card, one that had to be dealt with care. The boy's hatred of Dumbledore and the ministry would help to spread discomfort towards muggles and the like, the magical people of England would never admit fault with themselves and would certainly blame the muggles for the 'irrational' hatred that their hero possessed.

It was a delicious irony, one that the self proclaimed dark lord planned to exploit. He only had to choose how.

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Harry's mind was struggling hard to keep all the new-found knowledge from leading from his head. To say that Luna and Hermione were enthusiastic teachers was equal to saying that a nymphomaniac liked sex. It just didn't do the excited obsession justice.

Even with implants in his brain, Harry could barely keep up. The flaunting of sex appeal and schoolgirl outfits didn't help his focus. Still, he at least caught the gist of what they were trying to pass on to him. Someone had screwed him over.

Harry had a deadpan expression on his face and a migraine beginning to form. "Let me get this straight. I have the rights to vote in the magical parlament, I should have a crap-ton of inheritance somewhere, and I should have an utter fuck-ton of money from advertising rights using that shitty boy who lived title?"

Hermione and Luna both nodded. "We're sorry to have to tell you this Harry, but you deserve to know." Hermione held Harry's hand to try to comfort him.

Luna moved her seat on his opposite side, taking the other hand. "Are you okay Harry?"

The cyber-boy frowned, deep in thought, "On one level I am, but I'm not sure how I am supposed to feel." Harry gently removed his hands from the girls and started rubbing his aching skull. "When I was younger, I wanted anything and everything I could find about my birth parents. Any hint of them was a treasure to me. Now I've got my dad, and I couldn't ask for a better one. He's risking blackmailing an entire culture to keep me safe! Who else can say they're dad would do that for them?"

Harry sighed. Harry groaned. Then Harry said a phrase that he wouldn't have uttered if he was paying attention. "Fuck me!"

The girls eyes lit up and both exchanged looks. They knew how to cheer Harry up.

"Teacher, can you help us with this problem?" Hermione purred into Harry's ear.

On the opposite side Luna was rubbing herself against the synthetic arm. "We'll be so grateful."

Harry's oncoming depression was blocked by a more prudent, more enjoyable issue._"That does it. When I leave this brainless place I am so bringing these two with me."_


End file.
